In Disgrace
by Missie2
Summary: Continuation of Self-Heal. From Trowa's POV. Warnings same as last, Yaoi, 3x4.


In Disgrace

In Disgrace

This is the continuation of Self-heal. Poem is Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare. I've been busy today! *Phew* Warnings: NCS, Yaoi, Lime, 3x4, violence. I don't own them, you know that.

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When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

In Ireland having red hair makes you unlucky. It was something to do with Judas Iscariot, the guy who betrayed Jesus. He had red hair. I was born unlucky, and my luck just got worse as time went on.

I've never been a religious person. There are just far too many things that the Church frowns upon. My hair color wasn't the only thing about me that fervent Catholics found fault with. It was a known fact in our tiny Mayo village that my sexual preferences ran towards boys.

Sex was an outlawed crime despite the fact that it was needed to produce children. We weren't meant to enjoy it. Being a normal human being made you an animal in their eyes. I was worse than an animal. I was a monster. 

And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featur'd like him, like him with friends posess'd,

Many times as I toiled in the fields to pay for my Father's mistakes I wished that I were like the boys I saw pass me as they went to Church, dark-haired, handsome and without a care in the world. They came from rich families and were well educated, and they treated me with scorn. How I would have loved to treat someone else with scorn as they did so easily to me, and still retain my innocence.

I did my best to avoid the town, but still the gossip about me eventually reached my ears. They called me an animal with unnatural desires, a retard because I rarely spoke and couldn't read, and a savage because I had to kill to provide myself with food.

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Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Hunting brought me no pleasure, I could only think of what they said about me as I pulled the trigger and ended a life. The meagre food I brought home tasted bitter in my mouth when I found that even I considered myself a savage. For a year, I cursed them, cursed myself, cursed the world.

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Haply I think on thee,~~ and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;

When he arrived at my doorstep I can remember thinking that God had finally decided to do something nice for me by sending me an angel. I was surprised to discover that he was a village boy, because if I'd seen him I would have remembered it.

Quatre was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and he was at my house, offering to help me. While he explained how he wanted to help, I could only stare at him, wondering if I was hallucinating. I readily accepted his offer.

This sweet blonde miracle taught me how to trap animals like an expert, though he always turned away when I had to kill them. I started regretting the deaths myself. The time we spent together passed so quickly that I had to pretend I had forgotten what he had taught me so that he would stay.

I have so many wonderful memories of him: the time he grabbed a rabbit and made it cough up the pheasant mixture it had accidently eaten, the time we spent the whole day beside a badger's sett so he could make sketchs of the mother and cubs, the time he twisted his ankle and fell asleep on the couch when I brought him back to my house, the time he accidently looked when I blew a rabbit's head off…

… and the time I went too far.

He felt so good in my arms, his skin was so soft under my fingers, his lips so sweet under my tongue. When I started, I couldn't stop. I could tell he was confused. He was half trying to push me off of him, half begging me to keep going. Willing or not, we would have had sex there and then, but the farmer who saw us dragged me off of him. I still can't believe that I walked off and left Quatre there.

Soon enough, the repercussions caught up with me. I was accused of trying to rape Quatre. I was irate about this, but tried not to let it show so as to confirm that I was guilty. Big mistake. I wasn't prosecuted, but a mob attacked my house and gave me a beating with a bushel of thorns for one week. 

I only saw Quatre once after that, outside of the church. I'd heard that his Father had beaten the living daylights out of him, and so I couldn't help feeling angry. I took out my anger on the cow on was tending. I took out all my anger on animals at the time. I don't know why.

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For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

As much as I still curse my existence for what it is, I cannot wish anymore that I had never been born. If I had never been born, I would never have met Quatre. Thoughts of him silenced my screams while they flogged me with the blackthorn, my memories of him are what's keeping me sane. I am in love, and I couldn't wish for all my misfortunes to be lifted from me if it meant that I was not allowed my one comfort.

I will bear my fate in his memory.

The winter wind howled outside of Trowa's door so loudly that he only heard the faint knocking at his door the third time around. He angrily flung the door open, expecting a tax collector or something else.

He wasn't prepared to see Quatre's bright blue eyes staring back at him.

Pulling the smaller boy into the warm cottage, he slammed the door to keep the wind out. And they kissed hungrily as if they hadn't seen each other for years.


End file.
